To Whom Loyalty is Owed
by Syntyche
Summary: Obi-Wan is sent to the planet Xin to mediate between warring factions, where he becomes a pawn in a deadly conspiracy. Will Qui-Gon win the race against time with Obi-Wan's life and the fate of a planet in the balance? on hiatus until the Muse relents
1. every new beginning ...

loy1 Title: To Whom Loyalty Is Owed   
Author: Syntyche   
Rated: PG   
Archive: Ask me? Just so I know where it's going. ;)   
Disclaimer: Not mine. I make no money off of these characters. I only play with them because I love them. :) I know the disclaimer should be longer, but I'm too tired to write one, so I'll stick a long one at the end.;)   
Tissue Warnings: None that I'm aware of   
Obi-torture with resultant Qui-angst: Moderate to heavy 

As always! Thanks to the members of betas_anonymous, without whom I would definitely lack the guts to post anything (except 'Just Easier … ' *g*)   


Synopsis: Qui-Gon recovers from the duel with the Sith and spends some down time with Anakin on Tatooine. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan has yet to resolve his feelings about being Anakin's master and dealing with Qui-Gon's hurtful actions before the Council. At Yoda's decision, Obi-Wan is sent to the planet Xin to mediate between warring factions, where he becomes a pawn in a deadly conspiracy. Will Qui-Gon be able to win the race against time with Obi-Wan's life and the fate of a planet in the balance? 

*g* I love a clichéd synopsis. ;) 

I'll try to post as often as possible, but people, you know me, it's generally a week between posts. Thank you so much for taking the time to review my fic, though, it certainly reminds me that people actually want to know what happens and that I need to write. :)   


To Whom Loyalty Is Owed   
By: Syntyche 

Chapter One 

The Temple mess was unusually boisterous this evening – due in part, he knew, to the Choosings that taken place earlier in the day. The air had been tautly strung with nervousness at morning meal, but now, with the successful Choosing of new Padawans by uncommitted Jedi Masters, the happy former Initiates were celebrating among their friends with a round of – he thought he could see – jabanana splits. 

The newly Knighted Jedi in the farthest corner of the room watched them with a mixture of affection and sadness, and a resentment he was trying very hard to quash. He remembered his own Choosing, how desperate he had been to attract the attention of a Jedi Master who would be willing to train him, how proud he'd been to win the training duel … his anger and dismay at Qui-Gon's rejection of him and the tense trip to Bandomeer that had followed. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi permitted himself a bitter laugh he wouldn't normally allow. It was really only fair he'd been denied the chance to Choose his own Padawan: his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had been denied the chance, as well. It was only right that just as Qui-Gon had been forced to take the Padawan no one had wanted, he, Obi-Wan, had been bound by a desperate promise to take and train Qui-Gon's golden child. Well, attempt to train, anyway. 

Defensively, Obi-Wan huddled deeper into the secluded corner as his swirling, unwelcome doubts played themselves out as they had numerous times following Qui-Gon's near-fatal injury. 

//red// 

Qui-Gon had had a cause. This he could see, give mental assent to, even. Could rationalize, agree with, and explain away with a painfully false smile on his face. He understood that he was older, now, and should have been prepared to be knighted and on his own, and ready for the bond between he and his master to be severed just as neatly as his braid had been in a hasty ceremony that had taken place as soon as Qui-Gon was able to attend. He understood that he should have been ready, should have been pleased his Master thought him prepared enough to take the Trials. 

But when it all came down to it, the betraying whisper of his heart told him that, since Tatooine, his master had had no other consideration but the boy. Qui-Gon hadn't thought twice about humiliating and renouncing his apprentice before the entire Council, or announcing to the Council he believed Obi-Wan ready to take the Trials; but in the next moment treating him as if he were still a child to be talked down to, reprimanded, and ignored. 

//blue fire, striking the red// 

Nor had his master hesitated to, with what he believed to be his final breath, request that he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, take up the task that Qui-Gon himself had been denied by the Council – to train the boy, Anakin; the same boy who taken what had been Obi-Wan's life and chopped it into tiny pieces – and then blasted it into an oblivion. 

//blue. blue. blue. red// 

Obi-Wan pushed the food around on his plate, needing but not wanting the nourishment the fresh meats and tubers offered, and uncaring that his slumped posture or the way his chin rested dejectedly in his upturned hand didn't present the image of a dignified Jedi Knight – Master?? – to the group of new Padawans or the other Initiates in the room. 

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh. He didn't mean to think ill of his former Master. Qui-Gon was the father he'd never known, his family for the past twelve years of his life. Still, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if the man he loved deeply as a father and respected so greatly had known exactly what he'd asked for in securing Obi-Wan's promise to train the boy. 

//promise me … // 

He couldn't train Anakin. He was no more than newly-promoted Knight himself … how could he find it in himself to instruct another, especially the boy Qui-Gon believed was the Chosen One? 

//train him … // 

Obi-Wan viciously smashed his vegetables into a pile of mush. At least he had a few days' respite from both his padawan and his former master with which to hopefully sort out the jumble of confusion that was now his life. After a week in the bacta and another flat on his back in the Healers Ward, it was suggested that the still-healing Qui-Gon Jinn leave the bustling atmosphere of Coruscant – with a Healer in tow, of course – for a brief off-planet respite. To Obi-Wan's initial shock, Qui-Gon had chosen Tatooine, and – Obi-Wan swallowed – had requested Anakin accompany him. Asking Obi-Wan himself had been an afterthought, and only, Obi-Wan surmised with a faintly bitter taste in his mouth, because he was 'officially' Anakin's Master, not because he had been Qui-Gon's apprentice. 

Obi-Wan had, of course, politely declined, with the sharp feeling he would just be in the way anyway. And as he'd been mostly occupied with caring for Qui-Gon since their return from Naboo just two short weeks ago, he and Anakin had barely attempted to form a bond – and one had not been unconsciously formed as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's had. Consequently, relations had become strained between Obi-Wan and Anakin as Qui-Gon's convalescence slowly ended, and Anakin repeatedly pled to be returned to Qui-Gon's side and placed under his guidance and direction. 

It was a grand start to a budding apprenticeship. 

//promise me … // 

Obi-Wan brushed his fingers quickly through his short ginger hair, causing the spikes to stand on end, and rose gracefully but tiredly, the stoop of fatigue evident in his broad shoulders. 

"Knight Kenobi." 

The deep voice froze Obi-Wan in the act of leaning over to retrieve his meal tray. 

"Something wrong with the meal the Temple cooks have prepared for us today?" 

Obi-Wan glanced down guiltily at his plate, still filled with meat, tubers, and a mushed-up pile of vegetables. "Ah – no, Master Windu," he murmured, but he couldn't think of anything else to say to the Council member. //red on blue// 

"I'd like to speak with you if I may, Knight Kenobi. While you finish your meal," Mace Windu added pointedly. 

"Yes, Master Windu," Obi-Wan replied obediently, but it came out as a quiet sigh. If Mace noticed, he gave no sign, instead taking a seat across from the one Obi-Wan had just vacated and gesturing the young man back down to his chair. Obi-Wan plunked himself into the seat, but sat respectfully upright instead of reverting to his normal comfortable sprawl or the slump he had effected just a moment ago, and re-collected the meal tray Master Windu graciously pushed back at him. 

"Knight Kenobi, it has come to our – " and Obi-Wan wondered if he meant his and Master Yoda, or the entire Council " – attention that perhaps training the boy, the 'Chosen One,'" Obi-Wan ignored the sarcasm in the older man's voice, "is too much for you at this time." 

Obi-Wan sat back, startled. He was allowed to have doubts his abilities. The Council could not. "I have discussed this with Master Yoda already," he pointed out. //promise me// "I gave Qui-Gon my word that I would train Anakin, and I will." 

Mace frowned. This wasn't quite going as he'd intended. He dropped formalities, hastening to take Obi-Wan off the defensive. "Obi-Wan … you've been caring for Qui-Gon without pause since your return from Naboo. Even at the expense of your apprentice." He held up a hand to forestall Obi-Wan's automatic protest even though the young Jedi knew the Council Member spoke the truth. "I am told you have not even formed a training bond with Anakin." 

Obi-Wan flinched. Qui-Gon had needed tended to. He leaned forward, pushing his meal tray out of the way so he could lean his elbows against the tabletop. "Qui-Gon – " 

"Is well on his way to recovery now," Mace interrupted. "And the boy is with him on Tatooine." He paused, waiting until Obi-Wan's eyes came up to meet his. "The Council has decided to give you a chance to 'stretch' your diplomatic muscles before Qui-Gon and Anakin arrive home and you return to mothering Qui-Gon and ignoring your apprentice." He overlooked the hardening in the blue-grey eyes, waiting until Obi-Wan's carefully controlled calm returned and his mouth released the thin line it had become. "Qui-Gon and Anakin aren't due to return for another four days. You shouldn't be away more than six. The boy will be cared for until your return." 

Obi-Wan said nothing, so Mace continued. "The two warring factions of the planet have called a temporary cease fire and are willing to initiate peace talks. Chancellor Palpatine wishes to send a Jedi as mediator. You will preside over the talks." A hesitant look crossed Obi-Wan's face. Mace leaned forward and gave him a warm smile. "You've watched Qui-Gon do it for years, and I know you've done your share in aiding with the negotiation process. The Council has complete confidence in your abilities in this area, Obi-Wan." 

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said doubtfully. He was expecting a catch somewhere. And, whether he had wanted the job or not, he was Anakin's teacher. "I should be here when Anakin arrives." 

"Understand this, we do, young Kenobi," a new voice interrupted. Obi-Wan's eyes widened as Master Yoda joined them. "Think it best, though, we do, that a short respite you take before return to Coruscant your Master and Padawan do." 

Obi-Wan didn't feel like correcting Master Yoda by telling him Qui-Gon was no longer his Master, and it would have been disrespectful anyway, so he kept his mouth closed. "Master Yoda," he bowed his head in greeting. 

Yoda's lips twitched in a smile. "Doubts you have, young one?" 

Obi-Wan raised a skeptical eyebrow. Did he ever. He was confused by the Council's recent actions where Anakin was concerned. He wondered if he was asking for trouble by his first question, but pressed on anyway. "Masters, if I may be frank in asking … why is the Council so willing to bend the rules in Anakin's case? Surely the Council realized it was against our custom to release Anakin from my care to another Master so soon in his apprenticeship – as well as sending him back to Tatooine to see his mother?"   
Obi-Wan swallowed hard, but continued, 

"Admittedly, Anakin is not happy as my Padawan learner. He has accepted my authority during Qui-Gon's time of healing, but as Qui-Gon's health continues to improve he more and more pleads to be returned to Qui-Gon's care. I did not at the time, nor can I now, see what benefit there was in sending Anakin to Tatooine with Qui-Gon. Yet the Council overrode both my objection and position as the boy's Master to send him anyway. If I am to keep my word to Qui-Gon and train Anakin, I must not walk in fear of the Council superseding my authority in his training. I would like to know why the members of the Council are willing to make such exceptions for my Padawan," Obi-Wan finished. Well, he had expounded slightly further than he had intended. Quickly he glanced at the Council members for their reactions. 

Mace stared at him. Master Yoda stared at him. Oh, Sith, Obi-Wan thought, and then rearranged the letters and swore again. 

Mace Windu slowly breathed out. He'd known Obi-Wan longer than even Qui-Gon, had watched the boy grow from a small child to a gawky teenager to a determined young man. And despite Obi-Wan's controlled delivery, a bright streak of Qui-Gon's defiance blazed through his Force signature. 

Yoda stared at the dark-skinned Jedi, clearly waiting for him to give Obi-Wan an answer. Trouble was, Mace wasn't exactly certain how to answer the young man. 

"Obi-Wan," he said slowly. "Anakin's future is more clouded than any I or the Council have ever seen. What we are able to see disturbs us greatly. We felt that because of his age and lack of training … it would possibly benefit us more and go somewhat toward calming his fear and anger if he were to see his mother again. Qui-Gon nearly died on Naboo, Obi-Wan." 

You don't have to tell me that, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. I was there. I held him as the life bled out of his body. 

"Too much for young Skywalker, that would have been," Master Yoda interjected. "Dangerous to his training, as well. Time with Qui-Gon, he needs, and well it will do Qui-Gon to have the boy near." 

Obi-Wan squelched the sudden bitter vise that tightened his heart. Yes, he supposed it would do Qui-Gon well to have Anakin nearby during his healing. Anakin seemed to evoke a happiness in his former Master that Obi-Wan had not seen in a long time. 

Neither of the Council members had given him a straight answer to his question, but suddenly Obi-Wan didn't feel like talking any more. He rose from the table, tucking his suddenly trembling hands into his oversized tunic sleeves, and bowed to the seated men. "Then I will go. If you will excuse me, I have some preparations to make." 

Mace watched the young Knight leave. He wondered briefly if Yoda had been just in striking the gaping, crackling wound in the young man's emotions, but he had always trusted Yoda's wisdom before – and he had no idea what to do about the Jinn/Kenobi/Skywalker problem that had arisen. He would trust Yoda's judgment in this matter, as always. 

Mace sighed, watching the tense set of Obi-Wan's shoulders as he maneuvered around a group of celebrating, newly chosen Padawans. Even as Obi-Wan bent to offer his congratulations to the children, Mace could see the tight lines in his face that his smile didn't quite hide. Qui-Gon, old friend, you have no idea what you've done to that boy. 

Yoda was first to speak, and his gravelly voice was heavy with regret. 

"Save some discord by young Kenobi leaving, I hope it will." 

Mace turned away from studying Obi-Wan and sighed. "So sure Qui-Gon will argue, are you?" It was almost a humorous thing to ask. 

"Headstrong, he is. Meet, the Council must, concerning him and Padawan Skywalker. Argue for the boy, he will." 

Mace nodded. His brows drew together in a tight frown. "Yoda, I do not think manipulating him was the way to accomplish his leaving. He is – " 

"Hurt very much, young Obi-Wan does," Yoda agreed, lowering his small body from the chair. "But his Master as well. Trust my judgment, you will." 

Mace inclined his head respectfully. "Yes, Master."   


_end chapter one _:-) 


	2. ... comes from some other beginning's en...

loy2 Thank you everyone, for both your patience and for taking the time to review this story; authors thrive on feedback. I do anyway. *g* So, wow. I'm practically dying with anticipation here; I've got so many stories queued up for you wonderful readers (not that my lacking attempts at fanfiction make up for your kindness and patience), but poor Obi can only handle one bout of angst at a time. ;) Plus, they're all unfinished, so while I can subject you one WIP, I doubt I could get off so easily delivering two or three and updating them as slowly as I usually do. But, they're coming, they really are. 

I included an apology in the Author's Notes of Setting A Precedent, but I'll apologize again for the delay in posting chapters. As far as I know, I don't have any way to leave messages regarding updates and delays, but I really do post the chapters as soon as I am able. 

Okay. Enough. And lots of Obi is coming, I promise.   


To Whom Loyalty is Owed   
Chapter Two 

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the sofa in his and Anakin's apartment. At least, he assumed the rooms were the ones that belonged to him and Anakin – he hadn't really been here enough to know, spending, he admitted tiredly, far too much time in the Healer's Wing during Qui-Gon's recovery. But the new plate affixed by the door read 'Kenobi/Skywalker,' so he imagined he was in the right place. 

Obi-Wan studied the datapad on which he'd been attempting to compose a letter to Qui-Gon that would explain his absence and apologize to Anakin. Qui-Gon was as far as he'd gotten. Frustrated, Obi-Wan tossed the datapad further down the sofa and slumped backwards until his head rested on the back of the divan. It was no use. His emotions were too out of sorts for him to concentrate on anything. Master Yoda had struck a cruel blow. It was one thing to think those things, another matter entirely to hear them spoken aloud so casually. He had stayed with Qui-Gon minute after agonizing minute while the older man healed, first in a bacta tank, then in a recovery room. Though their bond had been broken, he had done his best to shunt healing energies to his former Master. Through the long nights when Qui-Gon had wrestled with a pain that was nearly unbearable, he had been there to calm and soothe and comfort as best as he was able. He had abandoned his own responsibility – Anakin – to care for his friend and former teacher. 

And despite all that, young, bright Anakin would do more for Qui-Gon than Obi-Wan had managed to. Even Master Yoda knew it. 

Obi-Wan thudded his head against the back of the sofa a few times. This was one time the bitterness and pain was very, very difficult to push aside. He closed his eyes and did his best not to remember, not to think, not to feel at all, but the doubts that had been plaguing him all morning certainly weren't going to relinquish their hold on the young Knight now. 

The comm unit at the far wall bleeped for his attention, and Obi-Wan was severely tempted to ignore it. The thought that it could be Qui-Gon only increased his hesitation, but his brow furrowed as he realized that he'd actually wanted to avoid his former Master. Few times in his life had he every actually desired that. This startled realization galvanized Obi-Wan, and he pushed himself off the couch and stumbled to the comm. 

It was Master Yoda, his gravelly voice sounding almost comical over the unit's tiny speaker. "Knight Kenobi. Ready, your transport is. Prepared, are you?" 

Prepared? Obi-Wan wanted to laugh. It was easy to be confident in his own abilities with his Master standing by his side. Could he be so confident alone? He would have to be. A tiny part of his heart died as he realized he was leaving another bit of his old life behind. 

He glanced at the datapad lying forlornly on his sofa. He would try to send Qui-Gon a message once he was in hyperspace. 

"Yes, Master Yoda. I am ready." 

~*~*~ 

Anakin hugged his mother tightly, burying his face in her shoulder as he tried not to weep. He had grown accustomed to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, loved Qui-Gon and come to care for Obi-Wan, but in his mother he found a comfort and strength he knew he needed. 

"I love you, Mom," he whispered. 

Shmi Skywalker held her son close, running callused fingers over his newly shorn hair, cut into typical Padawan style. She had been confused at first to see the small braid running from behind Anakin's right ear, but Qui-Gon was able to explain to her – with Anakin's excited interjections – the symbolism of the Padawan braid. After Qui-Gon's explanation, then, she had been confused by the hint of ginger hair that had been plaited into her son's braid, expecting instead to see intertwined a lock of Qui-Gon's mahogany and grey. Qui-Gon had gently described what had occurred on Naboo with the Sith warrior and his subsequent request that his own Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, train her son. He felt her initial flicker of anger and wondered at it, but after he'd finished his explanation he didn't bring the matter up again until later, after Anakin had retired for the night. He and Shmi were seated quietly around the large workbench Shmi had again cleared to use as a table, as she had during his first visit to her home nearly a month and a half before. 

"You are disappointed." It was a statement, and she did not need to question as to what he was referring to. 

"Yes," she said simply. 

"Obi-Wan is good, and capable. I will stand with him, and I will help him train Anakin." 

Shmi's dark eyes came up to stare into his. "I entrusted him to you." 

"As I entrusted him to Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon returned, but he knew he was doing an inadequate job relating to a lonely and grieving mother why he had seemingly broken his word to her. Leaning closer, he reached across the table and took her hand in his. She glanced at their clasped hands briefly, but did not pull away. "I was dying," he said quietly. "I wanted more than anything to see that your son would be taken care of. I knew Obi-Wan would excel in that; his generous heart saved me when I thought I was lost so many years ago. He will do right by your son, and your son will benefit greatly from him." It was a little more personal than he'd intended, but it was true, and perhaps it would allay her fears some. 

Shmi contemplated his words. Perhaps his former apprentice would be a good teacher to her son … but could she really entrust her son to him? She had never met this young man, knew nothing of him … 

"Couldn't you take him back as your apprentice?" she asked hesitantly, and didn't like the way Qui-Gon's rugged features tightened. 

Qui-Gon heaved a heavy sigh. "I do not believe it would be a good idea at this time – " 

"Then leave him with me!" Shmi snapped, her eyes bright with anger. "My son is lonely and hurting! Your apprentice has done nothing for him!" She swallowed. "He speaks to me of his great dream to be a Jedi. I believed that in sending him with you he could achieve that dream and have a better life than he had here. Now you bring him to see me and he tells me that he has learned nothing! He tells me of the distrust and dislike your Council has for him. He tells me that your apprentice did not and does not want him." Shmi was near tears now. "What kind of life have I given him over to, Master Jinn? I believed in you. I trusted you. I may not have much to give my son, but at least he knows he is loved and wanted here." 

And for the first time in a long while, Qui-Gon Jinn didn't know what to say. 

end chapter two 

And wow, I didn't realize how short this was compared to Chapter One. Sorry! Chapter Three will be up as soon as my wonderful betas add their corrections. *l* They seem so long while you're writing them ... 


	3. when dreaming

loy3 Thank you to everyone who sent well-wishes and good thoughts. :) Blood tests came back only with   
something to frown about, not something to draw up a will about yet. So, thank you. Your kind thoughts   
were much appreciated this week of anxiety.   
  


To Whom Loyalty is Owed   
By: Syntyche 

Chapter Three   


The wind whipped and pulled at his long hair as he turned slowly in a circle, remembering what had   
transpired on this spot. A strike here, a parry, a thrust … Qui-Gon's bright blue eyes surveyed the area   
where he'd fought his first battle with the Sith. Unprepared for the strength of his opponent, the Master   
had narrowly escaped defeat at the dark warrior's hands. 

Though still early morning, Tatooine's suns had already dissipated the night-time desert chill and   
warmed the sands that his boots sunk into as he walked for his morning exercise. At his request, K'laha,   
the Healer who had accompanied him and Anakin to Tatooine to continue to monitor his rate of healing,   
had remained at the Skywalker home with Anakin and Shmi while Qui-Gon went ahead to do his early morning   
meditations alone. He knew that if he did not return at the time K'laha had appointed, the Healer would set   
out after him and drag him back to the small abode. Taking a quick inventory of the pains he was already   
feeling from his short trek to the outskirts of Mos Espa, Qui-Gon wasn't sure if that wasn't what would   
ultimately happen anyway. 

Qui-Gon completed his reflection and closed his eyes in an attempt to center himself. 

"Qui-Gon, sir?" 

The youthful voice interrupted his effort at calm, but he didn't mind so much. Peering at the new arrival,   
he greeted him with a question. "Anakin. What are you doing out here?" 

The small boy offered him a conspiratorial grin. "Following you." His grin faded. "I wanted to speak with   
you privately, sir." 

Qui-Gon nodded. "Very well. A few minutes, and then we must start heading back, young Ani." 

The grin widened. "Healer K'laha's really stubborn, isn't she?" 

"Even more so than me, I think," Qui-Gon admitted with a rueful laugh. "Now … what did you want to   
talk about?" 

Anakin fiddled with the hem of his Jedi tunic for a short moment, his nervousness palpable. "I didn't mean   
to cause any problems, Qui-Gon, sir." 

Qui-Gon's eyebrows drew together in confusion. The piercing call of a Krayyt Dragon broke the desert silence   
with its far off, mournful wail. "Suppose you tell me what you've done now, Ani?" he asked with a small smile   
as he carefully lowered himself to the boy's level. He winced as the movement pulled at the healing skin on   
his abdomen. 

Anakin didn't return the smile. His normally bright eyes were sad as they studied the sand at his feet. "I was …   
listening … to you and Mom last night. Master, sir, I didn't mean to complain, but I told Mom when we got   
here that I missed her and that being a Jedi isn't like I thought it would be. And that I wanted you to be my   
Master because Obi-Wan doesn't want me. And the Council doesn't, either! I didn't know she'd come to   
you about it, sir." Anakin's new boot scuffed in the sand and he refused to lift his eyes to meet Qui-Gon's. 

Qui-Gon leaned back on his heels, rocking gently as he considered the young boy's admission. "Ani – "   
he began hesitantly, but was interrupted by Anakin's sudden cry of despair. 

"I didn't mean to cause trouble, Master Qui-Gon, honest! I'll tell Mom that I really do want to be a Jedi!   
'Cause I really do, sir, only I was mad about not having you for a Master and not getting to build a lightsaber   
and do cool Jedi things yet! I'm really sorry." Anakin was sniffling in earnest, and Qui-Gon felt his heart   
go out to the young boy. 

"Ani, come here," he said gently, taking the sniffling boy into his arms and hugging him tightly. "Anakin,   
listen to me." He tilted the small chin upward, absently remembering a time when Obi-Wan had permitted   
his Master to comfort him this way. But there had been many hardships along the road of his former   
Padawan's training. Obi-Wan's self-doubt and fear of being cast aside, coupled with Qui-Gon's reluctance   
to trust a Padawan after his second apprentice, Xanatos, had turned to darkness, had driven many a wedge   
into their bond. Qui-Gon's latest "stray," Anakin, had not only been the latest stumbling block between   
he and his Padawan in their professional relationship … it had also strained their friendship to a point of   
each being uncomfortable in the proximity of the other – he knew that Obi-Wan felt it, too. 

Qui-Gon shook off these thoughts. There was a little boy who needed his attention. 

"Anakin, it's all right," he shushed. "We'll work this out with your mother and with Obi-Wan when we   
return to Coruscant. Okay?" 

Anakin lifted tear-bright eyes from Qui-Gon's shoulder. 

_His eyes are bluer than Obi-Wan's; Obi-Wan's have grey in them,_ Qui-Gon thought as he brushed the   
sandy, short hair through with his fingers. "Okay?" he prompted the boy, with an earnest smile. 

"Yes, sir," Anakin replied dutifully, giving Qui-Gon a small smile in return, but his demeanor remained   
uneasy. "Qui-Gon, sir … please, couldn't you take me back as your Padawan?" 

Qui-Gon sighed. If only he could … but Obi-Wan's sense of duty would not allow him to renege the   
task he had accepted as his own, and the former Padawan's honor and pride would be severely bowed   
and his confidence in his abilities as a teacher broken if Qui-Gon asked to transfer apprenticeship of   
Anakin back to him. He could just imagine how the self-conscious Obi-Wan would take the request:   
'Well, Obi-Wan, since it turns out I'm not going to die, I really think I would make a better teacher than   
you, so could you please formally transfer Anakin's apprenticeship back to me? I think the Council   
will go along with it now ... ' No, to do that to Obi-Wan would be nothing short of cruel. 

"Anakin," Qui-Gon said regretfully, "I would very much like to take you as my Padawan learner" – and in   
admitting that to the boy he knew he had compounded the problem tenfold – "but Obi-Wan is officially   
your Master at this point. It would be … unwise for me to seek for the Council and Obi-Wan to hand your   
tutelage over to me." He rose, ignoring the protests of his stiff knees and the ache in his abdomen. "Come.   
Healer K'laha will be worried." Anakin's hand slipped into his and he squeezed it reassuringly. "Obi-Wan is   
a good man and a good teacher, Anakin. I know he has been … busy," Qui-Gon winced, "of late, but you   
must be willing to give him a chance, Ani. This is new for him, too." 

Qui-Gon could feel Anakin's disappointment, but the boy made a valiant effort not to show it. "All right." 

"Good boy," Qui-Gon said approvingly. "Now … let's hurry before K'laha sends out the troops!" 

~*~*~ 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and concentrated on his handstand. Carefully he lifted his left hand off the decking,   
extending it to the side. Then up … supported only by the fingers of his right hand. He remained focused on   
his balance, fighting to keep his body aerodynamically straight as he curled his fingers in slowly until only   
one remained on the floor. 

It was an easy exercise, but one that always brought him calm because of its simplicity. Obi-Wan opened   
his eyes and surveyed the hold from his new vantage point. The small room was clean and neat; blinking   
consoles lined two of the shock-padded walls, and a small holochess table was tucked into a corner. His robe   
and over tunic were precisely folded and placed on the corner of the flight couch. Obi-Wan twisted his face   
slightly, waiting for the familiar brush that always accompanied the movement. It didn't come. With a sudden   
flash of insight, Obi-Wan realized that this was the first time he'd performed this exercise without the symbol   
of his apprenticeship dangling in his face. 

The realization startled him. His concentration suddenly shattered, Obi-Wan tipped over and tumbled to the   
decking, tucking his shoulder under hastily in a quick roll and springing to his feet without conscious thought. 

_Damn_, he thought savagely, scrubbing a forearm over his eyes harshly. _Enough of **that,** Kenobi. You're_   
_a Knight **and** a teacher now – act like it!_

Obi-Wan's breath seemed to leave him in an exhausted rush and he stumbled to the flight couch, crossing   
his arms on the tabletop wearily and allowing his head to drop onto them. He'd not only neglected Anakin,   
his Padawan, during Qui-Gon's recovery, he'd neglected himself as well and his body was quite loudly   
protesting his mistreatment of it. His rubbery legs refused to support his weight, so Obi-Wan allowed himself   
to melt into the comfort of the flight couch. 

_So this is what gelatin feels like_, he thought absently, his eyes closing of their own accord and his breathing   
slowing as his body relaxed. 

The Captain should continue to be occupied with resetting the flight plan for at least some time yet – they'd   
had to detour around a particularly nasty ion storm that had wreaked havoc on the ship's instruments. And   
there was no one else aboard but him, and no reason for him to be The Venerable Jedi Knight for at least a   
little while longer. So maybe he didn't have to open his eyes just yet … 

But he should read the mission texts. He really should. Obi-Wan's right eye slid open. He wasn't ready.   
He needed to study. He couldn't sleep. He … 

_Well, maybe for a minute,_ his tired mind suggested and Obi-Wan nodded somnolently in agreement. 

_Okay. Ten minutes, then we study, okay?_   


Two hours later, Captain Ahazi Suul strode through the hold on her way to her cabin to rest for the night   
and stopped short when she saw the body of the Jedi slumped over the holochess table. He looked incredibly,   
impossibly young, but even in sleep the fine lines remained etched in his features. 

"Kest, they're turning them out young these days," she mumbled as she retrieved a blanket from a storage   
compartment and draped it over his shoulders. The young Jedi stirred and mumbled in his sleep; it sounded   
like a thank you but Ahazi wasn't sure. 

"Poor kid," she murmured, although he was likely less than a decade younger than she. She gave him a last   
look of pity as she scaled the lights down to dim for the night. "Poor kid." 

_end chapter three_

Thanks for being patient thus far. The story is completed but for a few more of these beginning chapters,   
and I'm just not getting the time to write them. And I've been cursed with the dreaded Writer's Block.   
I could just jump straight to the middle, cause I know you're all sticking around for the obi-torture anyway ... ;) 


	4. it's not easy

loy4 AN: Greetings to anyone still checking up on this story. I pray this finds you well, especially in light of last Tuesday, 9/11/01. Everybody okay?? 

Here's the fourth chapter, a bit late. Apologies, but I trust you all understand.   


Chapter Four   


Obi-Wan Kenobi drew in a deep breath, released it slowly and then began again. 

_/Red. Red and black, leering. leering, striking, stabbing/_

It was time to depart. 

He could do this. Without Qui-Gon. He **_had_** to do this, to banish the horrid visions and doubts if nothing else.   
Although he could put himself under enough to sleep at night – with sufficient aid from the Force – images of   
the leering Sith menace continued to haunt his waking hours. 

Obi-Wan settled his cloak over his short hair and made his way to the top of the landing ramp. 

"When will you return?" He directed his question to the figure waiting to see him off. Only his eyes betrayed   
his gratefulness for her thoughtfulness the previous night; Obi-Wan hated being cold, and the chill of space   
was remorseless. 

The Republic pilot, Ahazi Suul, pursed her lips as she considered. "Three days time. That sufficient?" 

Obi-Wan nodded, bowing formally. "Yes. Thank you." 

Despite the fact that she regularly shuttled Jedi to and from various destinations all over the galaxy, Suul was   
Corellian and therefore ignored etiquette entirely. She offered him a quick wink. "For you, sweetie, anything,   
anytime. Don't mention it." 

Obi-Wan straightened from his bow and shot her a raised eyebrow, but she merely grinned back at him saucily   
and palmed the hatch open. 

"I'll see you in three days, Jedi Kenobi." 

Obi-Wan knew from the texts he'd read earlier that morning that the populated areas of Xin consisted of a   
continent containing two regions that were separated by a mountain range. The Northern area was lush,   
humid jungle and full of ripe vegetation and copious water stores. Just over the mountains to the South, the   
land underwent a drastic change: long stretches of sandy dunes with little by way of trees, plant life, or water.   
Reading the mission texts about the Southern area brought to Obi-Wan's mind the Outer Rim planet Tatooine,   
the desert planet where Qui-Gon had met the boy, Anakin – and, in fact, where Qui-Gon and his golden child,   
Obi-Wan's padawan, were now. 

Obi-Wan tried not to think about it, tried to ignore the lightsaber flashes intruding upon his vision and   
attempted to focus on what he remembered of the peoples of Xin. 

The Northern and Southern people, he recalled, were very much alike, with only a few minor differences to   
set them apart. Both peoples were bipedal and humanoid, but the Northerners were stronger and healthier   
than their kinsmen to the South, having greater access to food, water, and medicines that could be garnered   
from plants of the Northern hemisphere. 

The fighting between the peoples was the result of the arid harshness of the Southern hemisphere stealing   
all the reserves its people could manage to gather; and the impenetrability of Northern stubbornness that   
refused to trade with their kinsmen. While the Southern faction called insistently for peace and the aid of   
the Senate, those of the Northern area were less than ecstatic with either idea. It was Obi-Wan's solo mission   
to bring both sides together as closely as possible and also try to convince the Northerners to agree with   
the South and join the Republic. 

_Breathe._ Obi-Wan moved down the ramp now without conscious thought, striding confidently by himself,   
and not a respectful step behind his Master. 

_/Green/blue/red/_

Two men and a woman waited at the bottom of the ramp; at their expectant, critical faces, Obi-Wan's calm   
vanished and his nerves shook. 

_Incredible. They're actually depending on **you** to help them,_ he thought in amazement and before he realized   
it, he was unconsciously grasping for help through the fragment of the bond he'd shared with Qui-Gon. 

_Stop it_, he told himself firmly, more than a little frightened as he quickly released the cauterized remains of the   
link. What was wrong with him? When had he become so dependent on his Master? So needy for reassurance   
that he was doing the right thing? _You're no longer Qui-Gon's Padawan; you're Anakin's Master. If you won't_   
_be competent for yourself, at least be sufficient for the boy who must follow you._

Obi-Wan released a sharp breath and hoped his initial discomfort hadn't been noticed by the individuals   
awaiting him. 

One of the humanoid men stepped forward as Obi-Wan approached and gave a short, quick bow.   
"Ambassador." 

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. 

_Let the show begin._

~*~*~ 

After living on the teeming, bustling, over-crowded city-planet Coruscant for so long, Qui-Gon was finding   
that Tatooine's endless stretches of wide-open desert were making him feel, oddly … claustrophobic. 

His morning walks, such as the one he was taking now, only served to remind him of just how much empty   
space Tatooine had to offer. He longed for the small but orderly quarters he and Obi-Wan shared tucked inside   
the Jedi Temple and the familiarity and comfort the closeness of his Padawan brought him. Qui-Gon had spent   
far too much time away from home, and he was discovering how much he missed the little things he'd taken   
for granted: the somewhat chipped tea mugs neatly put away in the kitchen, Obi-Wan's datapads stacked on   
the common room's low table; even the wet towels dropped carelessly on the fresher floor. 

Qui-Gon brushed these rueful thoughts aside with a little sadness. Even when he and Anakin returned to   
Coruscant, his old quarters would be empty, devoid of everything that had made them warm and cheerful and   
home-like, because Obi-Wan had already quietly and carefully packaged up his belongings and moved them   
to the new quarters he now shared with Anakin instead. 

It didn't surprise him that he missed Obi-Wan. 

Qui-Gon almost sent a light probe through the bond he'd shared with his former Padawan but withdrew at   
the last moment, remembering that their link had been severed, and none too gently either, when Qui-Gon   
had had that slight run-in with the Sith lord's double-bladed lightsaber. 

The air was warm and pleasant and Qui-Gon folded his arms in his voluminous sleeves contentedly.   
His wandering thoughts halted as he espied a shapeless, huddled form in the distance. He was tired and   
sore already from his walking this morning, but his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown as he hurried   
toward the figure. His long fingers curled around the hilt of his lightsaber, but he didn't sense anything   
dangerous from the creature before him – in fact, he couldn't sense anything from it at all. 

Qui-Gon crossed the distance fairly quickly and knelt beside the form hunched over its knees, reaching out   
a hand to shake the brown-robed shoulder gently. 

"Hello?" he questioned softly, peering down for a glance under the heavy cowl. "Are you all right? Do you   
need help?" 

When no reply came, Qui-Gon tilted the head with care and pushed the cowl back … and gasped.   
Familiar blue eyes stared out sightlessly from a face that had been burned and then cracked by the   
unforgiving desert suns, the gentle features were twisted into a harsh and accusing scowl that seemed   
to tear through the Jedi Master to his very soul. 

It was Obi-Wan, and he was dead. 

"Obi-Wan," the Jedi Master breathed, looking with horror into the blank eyes. "Oh Force, Obi-Wan … " 

_I cannot train the boy, Master …_

The words seemed whispered by the wind in a voice that was achingly recognizable. Qui-Gon shivered. 

"No!" He pulled the limp body closer, feeling his breath hitch disbelievingly in his throat. This was wrong!   
Obi-Wan was far away from here. Obi-Wan was whole and healthy – Obi-Wan was **_alive _**and back home   
at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. 

Qui-Gon lifted a shaking hand to close the staring eyes and Obi-Wan blinked and turned unfocussed,   
sightless eyes on his former Master. 

_Master,_

Qui-Gon was so startled he nearly dropped his precious burden. "Obi-Wan?" 

The horribly burned face twisted painfully as Obi-Wan's lips slipped into a wan, resigned smile. His lips   
moved to speak, but Qui-Gon heard the words on the wind. 

_I've failed, Master. I'm** failing.** I'm sorry._

"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured helplessly, wishing he could somehow guide Obi-Wan's searching   
blue-grey eyes to focus on his face. He captured one of the slim hands in his own and tried to ignore the   
charred, peeling skin that rubbed off under his fingers. 

_Train the boy, _the wind told him. _He is the chosen one. I have failed._

"You've only just begun," Qui-Gon countered softly. 

He awoke then, sweat causing his nightclothes to cling to his body and the images so real and close in   
his mind, he wondered if it had been more than a nightmare and instantly he banished that thought.   
Obi-Wan was on Coruscant, he reminded himself. 

The dream was so vivid and Obi-Wan's loose body so real in his arms, that Qui-Gon knew he would get   
no more rest tonight. He toyed briefly with the notion of comming the Temple and speaking with Obi-Wan,   
but the young man was a Knight now and didn't need his old Master checking up on him every time   
Qui-Gon worried. 

The Jedi Master padded noiselessly through the small Skywalker home until he was outside on the small   
balcony. The stars were bright this night, and he gazed up at them wistfully. 

The desert winds whispered to him then, and he shivered. 

_end chapter 4. yay! :)_


	5. hello city

Da-da-da-daaa!!!! Thank you so much to everyone who has a) inquired after this story, b) reviewed my new stories, and c) gone back and reviewed my old stories. To those of you who have inquired after Loyalty, here's the next installment and hopefully I'll be back to posting at least weekly soon. Almost to the end of the semester. Gonna … make it …. (gasp) … (cough)  
  
But, wow. You are all so absolutely fabulous; I'd love to name names, but I know I'd unintentionally leave at least a few people out and I don't want to do that.  
  
Finally, a light bit of housekeeping. With the betas_anonymous having gone defunct, this story is now officially un-betaed. Any rough edges, inconsistencies, and general confusions are entirely my fault.  
  
Secondly, I'm sorry to report that this chapter is actually pretty boring, but Obi-Wan can never manage to stay out of trouble for too long… :-)  
  
  
  
To Whom Loyalty is Owed  
  
By: Syntyche  
  
Chapter Five: Hello City  
  
  
  
The first thing that struck the newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi as he stepped off the transport was the sultry warmth of the muggy air. As he strode down the landing ramp to meet the welcoming party, he was assaulted by the heavy humidity, as thick and cloying as a sweat-slicked blanket and it seemed to wrap around him in an unassailable grip that left him staggering slightly in the uncomfortable atmosphere.  
  
Ugh, was his first, somewhat un-Jedi-like, thought. I almost wish I were on dry, arid Tatooine with Anakin and Qui-Gon, was his second, but he banished it with a bitter grin that was covered up as soon as it appeared by a somber expression of greeting for his hosts.  
  
"Ambassador. Chessno shaki," welcomed the younger-looking of the two humanoid males.  
  
"Chessno shaka," Obi-Wan replied solemnly, trying to quell the ache in his stomach even as he projected a calm exterior. He spoke the ritual greeting as a sign of respect, but introduced himself in Basic. "Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi." He stopped just short of affixing "Padawan" to the beginning of his name, but recovered and managed to add his new, proper title.  
  
The younger-looking male spoke again. "I'm Crale, royal liaison to the House of Dalaph – " Northern, Obi-Wan's memory automatically supplied, and if he hadn't been able to recall that Dalaph was the name of the ruling family of the Northern portion of the country, Crale's hearty, healthy appearance certainly offset the slim wisp of a woman standing beside him. With a wave of his hand, Crale indicated first the woman, and then the male beside her. "Shali, royal counselor of the House of Shaloaph, and Tropan, head of security for that House."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded to each of them in turn before returning an expectant gaze to Crale, the apparent leader of the party. The young man dipped his head in acquiescence, "If you'll walk with me, please?"  
  
The Xini, Northern and Southern, were much taller than Obi-Wan, but the young Jedi had no trouble keeping up with their long-legged stride. The landing platform stood at the edge of a thick, leafy jungle, and the farther they followed the well-worn path through the vegetation to the city, the denser the air became and the more Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to strip down to his breeches to combat the uncomfortable humidity, though he doubted that Shali would appreciate his lack of decorum much – until he caught her curious, wolfish smirk out of the corner of his eye. Well, maybe she would. Despite the heat, Obi-Wan pulled his thick cloak a little tighter against his body and cast her a wary grin.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Crale flashed Kenobi a narrow glance, surveying the ambassador that the Senate had sent. The Jedi … wasn't quite what he had expected, but then he'd never seen a Jedi before anyway, he'd only heard rumors and tales about their "Force" and their extraordinary abilities. He'd even heard that Jedi were immortal … and Kenobi looked quite young. Maybe he was really older and they were all just simply well preserved … and short.  
  
Kenobi was small but compact, well-muscled, and he moved with a grace that the Xini liaison envied. Kenobi's features were also sharply defined, with interesting nicks here and bumps there that defied the standard, bland appearance of the Xini. Even as the liaison watched with cynical amusement, the counselor to the Southern queen was pointedly eyeing the cleft in the young ambassador's chin, much to the Jedi's obvious discomfort. Crale hid a grin. Despite his dislike of offworlders, there was something in Kenobi that the Xini felt a connection with, and as he resolved to find out a bit more about their new ambassador, he also decided to keep an eye on him – the Jedi would have his work cut out for him on Xin.  
  
Crale cleared his throat. He didn't know much about the Southern women, but if they were anything like their kinsmen to the North, Kenobi was going to be under a lot of scrutiny these next few days. It almost – almost – made him look forward to the official reception for the Jedi this evening, but he was too accustomed to dealing with his queen and knew that the function was no more than a farce that he must endure for the sake of his country. "How much do you know about the situation here?" he asked the Jedi, a little more sharply than he'd intended as he thought about evening ahead of him. The Jedi's eyebrows pulled together in a near-frown.  
  
"Not much; the file was regrettably brief, I'm afraid."  
  
Curse him, Crale mulled caustically, he even speaks well. The liaison shrugged. "As expected. That's why I – we're – here to meet you," he amended with a short glance toward Shali and Tropan, who walked quietly behind he and Kenobi. Crale continued to speak as they made their way into the city, outlining Kenobi's itinerary while the young Jedi listened intently. "We're aware of the short time you've been granted to stay here; the ruling families from both countries are here and as ready to negotiate as they'll ever be – which in our case, is not at all," he added with a sardonic smile, "but I'm sure you'll discover that very shortly, and also, if I'm not mistaken, the reasons why." He was behaving somewhat less than his usual diplomatic self, but if there was one thing the young Xini despised, it was being manipulated into deceiving someone, and, curse it, there was something about Kenobi that he couldn't quite put a finger on.  
  
Frowning, he continued, "There is to be a reception tonight both to officially welcome you and the House of Shaloaph – " he nodded again politely toward the two silent members of their party – "and your opening negotiations are scheduled for tomorrow morning. Our ruling governments each consist of the queen and her consort as well as a number of advisors; the majority of your dealings will be with the advisors who will then inform the queen, who has the final word on the matter."  
  
"So I suggest you do what you can to convince the advisors," Shali murmured, sidling up to walk beside Kenobi. Kenobi's staid expression wobbled worriedly, but the faintly amused leer had already dropped from her voice and she was once again a tired young woman from a starving populace who was looking to the Jedi ambassador for help. "The House of Shaloaph is ready to do what the Dalaph request of us in order to save our people. We have even agreed to meet here in foreign territory if that is what it will take to – "  
  
"Shali!" the security advisor, Tropan, spoke for the first time, and his voice was harsh and cold. Crale almost felt sorry for the woman. Tropan spoke too rapidly for Crale to translate the hybrid language of the Southerners, but the gist of his words was clear – we are too proud to beg. Shali's bright eyes flicked to Kenobi and then down to the ground; Kenobi shifted uncomfortably, his blue-grey eyes dark as he regarded Tropan. Tropan's mouth was tightened in a grim line and he refused to look at the Knight.  
  
The remainder of the short journey was made in silence.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Obi-Wan forced a perfect smile for the Xini who stood at his elbow before half-turning to greet someone else. There were many people in attendance at the reception, all involved in some form of government. He'd been introduced to some of the advisors and councilors from the Northern country, but apart from Shali and the brusque security chief, Tropan, he had yet to meet anyone from the small Southern delegation. From what he could see, though, the two peoples seemed to be mixing quite well actually. He didn't even have a bad feeling about the upcoming meetings.  
  
Qui-Gon would be relieved, he thought wryly and with a pang of sadness. It didn't – it couldn't – matter to him what Qui-Gon thought now. Especially since Qui-Gon thought his worthless former apprentice apparently didn't mind being replaced by a nine-year-old boy…  
  
Following that well-worn path once more made Obi-Wan's heart twist painfully in his chest. He took a sip from the fluted glass in his hand to slow his sudden rush of breath, and the strong, fruity flavor of the drink burst onto his tongue and immediately quelled the tightness in his throat.  
  
The Knight knew that he really ought to let his bitterness go, but the acrimony from his Master's sudden dismissal of him had entwined itself so deeply into the core of his being that he wasn't sure if he could let it go – even if he wanted to. Dully, Obi-Wan realized that even as it was slowly wearing him down, his bitterness was the only thing keeping him going – something tangible that he could wrap around himself like a cloak and stay shielded from the galaxy. He had been too trusting, too caring before.  
  
Too stupid.  
  
When did I become so dependent upon other people? he wondered at himself in amazement. Why does it matter so much to me now what people think of me, if they care about me?  
  
Oh, he answered himself with a sharp, self-mocking grin; I've always been this way.  
  
"Ambassador?"  
  
Grateful to leave his desolate and increasingly dark thoughts behind for the moment, the young Jedi lifted his eyes to see the Northerner who had met him at the landing platform standing before him. "Crale," he greeted politely, eyeing the new arrival. The Xini appeared to be roughly his own age, but towered over the Knight as Qui-Gon would have. Obi-Wan was unconcerned by their difference in height, however – during his long apprenticeship he'd grown accustomed to craning his neck to address someone.  
  
"Sir." The liaison dipped his head slightly, a lock of ebony hair failing forward into his dark eyes as he did so. He brushed it away from his face with an unconcerned flip of his hand, and favored Obi-Wan with his ready grin. "I trust you're comfortable with us and your accommodations are suitable?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded shortly. "Yes, thank you." His accommodations, while by no means extravagant, were comparable with those inhabited by the wealthier families – a comfortable stone structure set near the meeting hall where the negotiations would take place on the morrow. Qui-Gon would most likely have complained that the small rooms were too much for he and his Padawan to occupy, but Obi-Wan didn't see much sense in quibbling over sleeping space when it was an incredibly gracious act on the part of Northern Xini to allow him to be there at all. Qui-Gon had always handled those situations so much better than his former Padawan.  
  
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden pain and re-opened them just as quickly, noting gratefully that Crale's attention had been momentarily diverted as he scanned the large room.  
  
"Ambassador, if you're ready, I'll take you to meet the rulers of the Houses now," Crale offered; without waiting for a verbal reply, he gestured for Obi-Wan to follow him and strode towards the rear of the large room.  
  
Obi-Wan set his drink down neatly and followed the taller man, winding his way easily through the crowd despite the obvious height difference between himself and the native Xini. His earlier anxiety notwithstanding, he had been trained for diplomatic situations such as these, and as he moved gracefully through the crowd, greeting intrigued attendees with a benign smile, his confidence settled and for the first time he felt comfortable in his position. Though he missed his Master's presence, Obi-Wan suddenly found himself prepared to fill a role he'd been primed for. Perhaps the Council had been right in assigning him a solo mission while Anakin was in … in good hands.  
  
Perhaps.  
  
A large table had been set aside for the leaders of both Houses and before he took the seat that had been assigned him, he dropped a brief bow and greeted the queens accordingly. Guienne of Dalaph, the queen of the Northern country, bore the dark hair and broad features of her people. She was tall with a commanding presence, but the jade gown she wore accented both the femininity of her build as well her slender musculature. She acknowledged him with the proper words, but her dark eyes coldly proclaimed him an intruder into her territory.  
  
The Southern queen, Renoia of Shaloaph, had the bronzed skin and hair of one who spent much time beneath the desert sun, and while she was similar to her counterpart in height and appearance of nobility, she also retained the gaunt look he'd seen on the Southerners in the welcoming party. As he straightened and looked upon them both, he realized that, despite the thin unhealthiness of the Shaloaphian queen, she bore a strong resemblance to Guienne, a fact he filed away to research later. Both women had greeted him coolly, but there was a gleam of warmth tinged with a faint bit of hope in the eyes of the Southern queen. Obi-Wan knew she expected him to set things right between the two countries and wondered anew if he were capable of completing the daunting task before him. He bowed to the consorts and was introduced to the various councilors and advisers that were part of both women's retinues. All the while he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, but he was unable to pinpoint the source.  
  
Qui-Gon would have been able to, he thought with a stab of self-deprecating anxiety. It had been so easy to be controlled and focused while Qui-Gon was in charge, but Obi-Wan was finding the task of watching his own back to be more than a little difficult.  
  
I even wish Anakin were here.  
  
Obi-Wan tapped experimentally at the bond he'd half-heartedly tried to form with Anakin and found it to be silent, as it had been since their return to Coruscant after Qui-Gon's near-fatal wounding. There were, in one deeply buried part of his mind, the ragged edges of the padawan bond he'd shared with his former master, but it was in a dark, scored place that Obi-Wan rarely visited anymore and was trying very hard to forget about. It was far better left alone.  
  
Dinner was, for lack of a better word, an odd affair. Obi-Wan wavered between amused confidence and near alarm at the rapidly changing moods around the table. The queens of both Houses continued to shoot frosty glares at each other and words were only exchanged when absolutely necessary, but the several women in the negotiation party seemed content – except for Shali, who shifted uncomfortably under Tropan's hard glare. Crale, the Northern liaison, continued to shoot uneasy glances in the Knight's direction. The queens' consorts simply looked bored. Obi-Wan could recall a few similar instances in which he'd been involved before, but Qui- Gon had nearly always managed to ease tensions and ingratiate himself to his hosts. The Knight eyed the meats and vegetables on his plate cautiously and watched quietly as the Southern delegation devoured the rich foods with barely restrained exuberance.  
  
Was he capable? Would he succeed? Obi-Wan couldn't help but be preoccupied by the thought. It would be rather nice to know whether or not Qui-Gon had wasted his time with his third Padawan's training.  
  
Damn it! Obi-Wan thought viciously. Stop. His thoughts were so very preoccupied tonight. He took a stab at a red fruit that vaguely resembled something he'd eaten before, but the instant he put it into his mouth he realized that it certainly was not at all like the sweet torbaqa he'd equated it with, but instead like the very spicy salsa fruits that Master Windu so enjoyed dousing his meats with. Obi-Wan's eyes widened, brightening as a sheen of moisture swelled in them. One of the women from the Northern House noticed and gave him a tiny smile.  
  
"Be careful of overindulging on the rinka, Ambassador – it is very good, but should be eaten in small doses until you build up an immunity to its toxins. Otherwise you could do yourself serious harm."  
  
Thanks for the cheery advice, Obi-Wan mused cynically. Crale laughed loudly at the woman's words.  
  
"I doubt it. Aren't Jedi immortal?" he asked with a grin, but his humor faded when, beside him, Obi-Wan suddenly blanched and nearly choked on his food. "Ambassador?" he asked cautiously, wondering if it would be an offense to slap the Jedi on the back. Kenobi had gone terribly white.  
  
"I'm all right," Obi-Wan managed, swallowing hard. Crale's remark had hit a little too close to the gaping wound in his heart and brought remembered flashes of reds, blues, and greens to his vision. "I apologize," he managed. "No," the Knight demurred softly after he had regained his breath, "Jedi certainly are not immortal."  
  
"Indeed?"  
  
Guienne's cold voice made Obi-Wan look up, and if her tone hadn't caused his heart to plummet to his boots, her next words certainly did.  
  
"Then I take it that your former Master, Ambassador Kenobi, is quite the exception?" 


End file.
